


This Might Actually Work

by xwannaflyx



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, M/M, marry for the children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-17 11:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16094945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xwannaflyx/pseuds/xwannaflyx
Summary: Following the disappearance of their alternate dimension hopping selves, Tobirama sits down and has a long think about the ramifications of a marriage with the Uchiha clan, particularly when it would be between a clan head and an heir. Like most crazy, why-the-fuck-did-it-work decisions, the choices are made in between the witching hour and the asscrack of dawn.Alternatively: Tobirama and Madara get married. For the children.





	1. The Perils of Dimension-Hopping Knowledge (and Contract Negotiation)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PandaFlower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaFlower/gifts).
  * Inspired by [i set fire(to space-time)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11260953) by [PandaFlower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaFlower/pseuds/PandaFlower). 



> a rather late submission to the MadaTobi Remix. PandaFlower I absolutely love your i set fire fic because it is a delicious blend of crazy and fun. Hope this remix did your fic justice!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just so everyone knows, this fic was inspired by PandaFlower's i set fire (to space-time) fic which means that certain elements (mainly mentions of the dimension hopping variety) will be better understood by reading her fic first.

“You gave my favorite cousin away for a peace treaty!” Touka shrieked as soon as the strange new/old comers had disappeared and the portal fizzled away. Tobirama let out another vaguely wounded noise, frowning at his older brother with a hurt hunch to his shoulders. Madara, waking from his kiss induced haze, took a careful step away from his best friend to ensure that everyone was aware he was _definitively_ not on the side of brother-sellers. Brother-pimpers? Nonetheless. There was a cloud of chakra around Touka and a dangerous edge to her smile and he remembered enough from previous battles to be wary.

“I _wouldn’t_ ,” Hashirama squawked, taking a quick step back in the face of Touka’s intimidating fury.

“Man, that’s a dick move,” Izuna said gently, patting Tobirama on the back. “Sorry your brother is an even bigger asshole than mine.”

“Izuna!” Madara snarled, scowling again.

The battlefield, which had already become a standstill, became utterly silent when Touka let out an animalistic screech and leaped for Hashirama’s throat as Hashirama let out a high pitched scream and tried to get away. “I…” Tobirama began faintly, watching his cousin attempt to beat some sense into his brother. “I rather think that we all have things to think about today. We can put off a battle to the death until later, correct?” he asked, gathering his dignity together enough to meet Madara’s gaze.

“Oh. Yes,” Madara agreed awkwardly. The two managed to hold each other’s gaze for about three seconds before Madara abruptly remembered Strange Tobirama mentioning current Tobirama’s virtue and Tobirama remembered seeing the hint of tongue in the kiss. “Right,” Madara squeaked, cheeks going red. He abruptly turned and began yelling at his clan to retreat and reorganize, applying his gunbai with gratuitous force if they continued gawking at Tobirama for too long.

“Right,” Tobirama said faintly, ignoring Izuna’s narrowed eyed glare as he continued staring at Tobirama even as he walked backwards toward his brother. Ignoring Touka and Hashirama’s brawling/screeching with years of practice, Tobirama turned to his own clan members. “Right, I think we’ll all be returning to the Compound now,” he said dryly.

“Are you actually a virgin,” blurted one unlucky clan member.

Tobirama gritted his teeth, even as he felt his cheeks warm further. As he was contemplating showcasing that regardless of his sexual experience he could still kick his ass, Touka and Hashirama looked up, honing in on the idiot like bloodhounds. “I think you’ll find,” Tobirama began stiffly, only to watch in surprise as the clan member was bowled over by a furious Touka and Hashirama. “I think you’ll find that no one is escaping with their dignity intact,” he said rather dryly, watching the third-in-line heir and the current Clan Head brawling like common thugs with another clan member. With a sigh, he turned and began walking back to the Compound, ignoring everyone else’s insanity. After a moment of hesitation, the rest of the clan follows, leaving the three Senjus to continued fighting it out in the dirt.

-x-

Sixteen hours later, running on coffee and the adrenaline of successful research, Tobirama actually considered what the two strangers had said for a long calculating moment. If considered in some ways… he allowed the thought to draw its natural conclusion and threw himself toward the bookshelf, searching for his clan history scrolls. Yes, if he remembered correctly then the Senju had intermarried with another clan that they had been at war with and come to an amicable close. Scanning the scroll, he gripped it firmly and marched over to the clan library, wanting to look at the exact wording of the clan law in question.

Making his way to the library, he warily dodged the few guards patrolling and was deeply grateful that Touka was asleep after the firm lecture that Mito had given her about beating her husband. (Mito had said that while deserved it was improper to do it in front of the clan. Hashirama, well trained by Mito at this point, had shuddered at the mention of impropriety. Touka had cackled then quickly subsided when Mito smiled pleasantly while withdrawing a seal from the depths of her robe.)

Digging through the law scrolls, he finally found the one in question and read the exact wording, checking the nuance with the wording of more recent laws as well as the older, fundamental ones. “This could work,” he mused, glancing between the mess of legalese to the love story of some previous clan member.

Nodding decisively, he quickly rearranged everything back to its proper place, taking a moment to fluff dust onto the scrolls so that no one (probably Mito) could discover his search. As he snuck back to his room, he weighed the benefits of acting immediately as opposed to extra sleep. With a sigh, he chose the more practical option.

-x-

“What the actual everloving fuck, Senju?” Madara said slowly, staring at Tobirama who was perched on his windowsill like some particularly pale, murderous bird. “It’s—” he peeked around the intruder to judge the position of the moon, “way too fucking late for this.”

“I’m not trying to kill you,” Tobirama said quickly, hopping into the room without permission.

“Considering you landed on my windowsill and woke me by saying ‘psst Madara’ I figured,” Madara said dryly, staring at his nighttime intruder. “What the fuck,” he added, because he thought that point hadn’t been stressed enough, honestly.

“The nuptials,” Tobirama said a lot abruptly and a little wild-eyed, “they’re a good idea.”

There was a pause in which Madara deeply regretted his life decisions and tried to determine if he was actually just asleep and having a nightmare. “I need a drink,” he whispered faintly to himself. Turning, he began walking toward his stash of alcohol, ignoring Tobirama who followed him like a deranged, murderous bird.

“Madara, did you hear me?” Tobirama asked, sweeping in to step in Madara’s way.

“I was really hoping I misheard,” Madara admitted, giving up the alcohol for lost. He thought about it for a second then turned back to the bed. “I figured it out,” he said with a sigh of relief. Lying down, he pulled the blanket back over his head, “yep, I must still be having a nightmare.”

Letting out an impatient noise, Tobirama straddled Madara’s hips and firmly yanked down his blanket. Madara stared at Tobirama’s scowling face for a moment then flopped back with a resigned, defeated sigh. “Intermarrying clans has a legal precedent with the Senju Clan,” Tobirama continued, ignoring Madara who was being a big, dramatic baby. “We can have a torrid love affair. It’ll satisfy Hashirama’s love for the dramatic _and_ end the war!”

“Are you drunk?”

Scowling, Tobirama leaned in and breathed on Madara’s face, causing Madara to recoil with a noise of disgust. “Stop whining and listen to what I’m saying,” Tobirama snarled, keeping his face right up against Madara’s. “ _We can prevent any more children from dying_.”

Madara froze. He remembered the feeling of grave dirt under his fingernails and the wetness of Izuna’s sobs against his shoulder. He remembered what it felt like to bury brother after brother and yet still have to pick up his weapons again and go out to fight. “No more child soldiers,” he breathed out.

“No more children dying,” Tobirama repeated, something burning in his gaze.

Madara remembered his orphaned wards and the cries of the parents as they lost children. “Yes,” he agreed, meeting Tobirama’s burning eyes with his own determined ones. He felt his eyes burn and spin into Sharingan, capturing the moment of rare joyful triumph in Tobirama’s eyes. “Yes.”

-x-

“Madara and I are very much in love and plan to get married,” Tobirama announced flatly, right after a Clan Elder had rather dully asked if there were any further points of interest. There’s a definite crack as Touka suddenly rocks forward too hard and breaks her chair leg; another Clan Elder tumbles from their seat and into the table. “I didn’t know how to bring it up,” he continued stoically.

“And you thought this was the best idea?” Hashirama squeaks rather incredulously, nervously eyeying Touka who is slowly rising from the ground and casually loosening up her muscles. Mito raises a delicate eyebrow and takes a slow sip of tea.

“But we were too in love to hold back our affection any longer,” Tobirama finished rather woodenly. He scanned the gobsmacked expressions around him and cleared his throat. “He’s here if anyone wants an affirmation,” he added.

“An Uchiha on our grounds?” shrilled a Clan Elder.

“I’m about to marry your Clan Head’s heir, I think it’ll be okay,” Madara said rather dryly, appearing dramatically in a flourish of smoke. There’s chaos for a moment and Clan Elders scramble for cover and Hashirama attempts to dive over the table to give his best friend a hug. “The heir which I very much love,” he added with a wince, leaning on his gunbai. Tobirama gave him a vicious kick to the ankle, shooting him a warning glare. Grumbling, Madara subsided, carefully strapping his gunbai to his back. “Fuck me, are all meetings like this?” Madara hissed to Tobirama, watching the elders run like an overturned anthill.

“It wasn’t this bad when Mito and Hashirama announced their marriage,” Tobirama replied thoughtfully, wincing in sympathy when one Elder crashed into a wall and collapsed by it in a heap.

“The timing is a little suspect don’t you think,” Touka said dangerously, carefully cleaning out her nails with a kunai. She gave Tobirama and Madara a slow look, indolently dangerous. “Not even two weeks after the Incident,” she added, turning her decidedly more dangerous glare on Hashirama, who remained sprawled across the table from when Madara had smacked him out of the air.

“Well,” Madara began flicking desperate hand signs for help at Tobirama.

“We figured since the cat was already out of the bag we should get married,” Tobirama cut in, pasting on a smile.

Touka carefully cleaned out one more fingernail then flicked the kunai back into her pouch. “Oh?” she asked. Mito remained seated, proving once and for all that she really did not flinch at the face of anything.

“It’s love. It can’t be helped,” Tobirama said rather dryly. He twitched then resolutely grabbed Madara’s hand and entangled their fingers. “See?”

Touka’s eyes flickered from Mito to Hashirama to their joined hands. Humming thoughtfully, she turned and prowled out of the room. “Is she gone?” Hashirama whispered, peeking out from under his hands.

“Yes Brother, the scary older cousin is gone,” Tobirama replied, rolling his eyes.

Shuddering, Hashirama eased out of protective fetal position he had been in and inspected his brother and best friend. “Are you happy like this, Tobi?” Hashirama suddenly asked, frowning in a moment of rare seriousness as he looked at his baby brother, always as cold and resolute as steel, and his best friend who always burned like a forest fire.

Madara carefully squeezed Tobirama’s hand, remaining silent. “I will be,” Tobirama slowly replied, keeping the meaning deliberately vague.

Hashirama’s frown remained but he crawled off the table with a sigh. “Then we’ll begin negotiations,” he said carefully, eyes still fixed on their joined hands. “Madara, could you let the Uchihas know?”

“Oh, we already told them,” Madara said blithely, a rather gleeful smirk on his face. Tobirama’s expression matched his. “It was glorious.”

-x-

Two weeks into negotiations between the Senju and Uchiha for what was quickly becoming the wedding of the century, Madara firmly gave up on attempting to assist in the negotiations, realizing that Tobirama really had this well in hand. While he did occasionally worry about whether or not the contract would be fair for the Uchiha, Izuna’s screaming temper quickly put those fears to rest.

“If you would just look at the marriage contract you drew up with the Satoshi—” Tobirama snarled, one hand curled in a fist and the other waving an old scroll from the depths of the Uchiha Library in Izuna’s face.

“The Satoshi’s didn’t have an ongoing war with us!” Izuna yelled back, almost leaping over the table and into Tobirama’s face.

“Section 5, subsection 3 would—”

“You’ve brought up that goddamn section fifty time just today!” Izuna shrieked back, fingers curling into claws.

“You know,” Touka said civilly from where she sat beside Madara. “Tobirama is my favorite cousin.”

Madara glanced from his intended’s icy glare to his little brother red cheeked fury and turned to Touka. “He’s competing against Hashirama,” he pointed out carefully.

Touka’s nose wrinkled for a moment, “point,” she agreed with a little huff. Waving her hand dismissively, she turned back to Madara, “Nonetheless, he’s my favorite cousin.”

“Yes…?” he replied carefully, well aware at this point that Hashirama may be the powerful one and Mito was the devious one but Touka was most definitely the dangerous one. (Tobirama was the crazy maniacal genius of them all; Madara found it rather infuriating except for the few moments he had to admit it was endearing. He then would rapidly go burn down some forest to reclaimed his anger.)

“Regardless of if it is love or Tobirama sacrificing himself to Hashirama’s happiness,” Touka said slowly, an edge to her diplomatic smile, “if he gets hurt because of you, I’ll rip your throat out.”

“Understood.”

“With my teeth,” she added amicably.

Madara couldn’t help the moment of disgust as the image came to mind. “Right.” He looked at Touka with her whipcord muscles and her no-nonsense topknot. “I’m sure you would,” he added because she was still staring at him. “Teeth to neck,” he added a little nervously because she was still staring. “Understood.”

She continued staring at him for a moment before sighing and turning back to the two people screaming over the heads of the unusually cowed Clan Elders. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “in some ways the level of effort he put into the legal research would be a sign of love.” When Madara merely squawked, she cut him a glance then turned back to the screaming match. “You get your idiot, I’ll get mine?” she offered, dusting off her hands and rising.

As Madara nodded mutely in agreement, she calmly walked over and firmly grasped Tobirama’s collar before mutely lifting him into the air. “Cousin, this is undignified,” Tobirama said with as much dignity as he could muster when he was dangling from his older cousin’s hand. Despite there only being an inch or so of space between his toes and the ground, he still couldn’t reach.

As Madara was reaching forward to tug, Izuna mutely dropped into the table, eyes fixed on the way Touka’s arm flexed as wisps of chakra flowed off her skin. “That’s hot,” he blurted.

“Gross,” Tobirama responded reflexively as Madara buried his face in his hands and gave up on life. Touka merely quirked considering eyebrow at a gawking Izuna, cheerfully flexing the other arm for no real reason.

“If we could please continue the actual contract negotiation?” Madara mumbled into his hands, embarrassed _for_ his brother at the gobsmacked and slightly starry-eyed expression he wore.

“Yes,” Tobirama agreed, getting free after a brief moment of flailing at his cousin. Smoothing his robes, he delicately sat in his seat, clearing his throat a little uncomfortably. “As I was saying,” he said carefully.

“If you start up on section five again,” Izuna warned, finally distracted from Touka’s arms.

“Considering that I’ll be marrying into the Uchiha’s, it seems appropriate to bring it up,” Tobirama snapped, already losing his temper.

“What?”

“What?”

Tobirama glanced from the shocked expression on Madara and Izuna’s face to the shocked heartbreak on Hashirama’s face. “Madara is the Clan Head,” Tobirama said carefully with a little frown, “it isn’t as if he can marry into the Senju Clan,” he pointed out in the tone he tended to use when he actually just wanted to call everyone an idiot.

“But you’re the heir,” Madara said a little blankly. He hadn’t thought about this aspect of the marriage so much; the hope of peace had been so close and he figured with such huge clans they would spend months going over minute contract details which would allow for greater flexibility.

“Hashirama will get niblings soon,” Tobirama said dismissively, causing a rather dangerous glare to be thrown at Hashirama from Mito. “So moving on,” he added, dismissing everyone else’s input. “About the rebuilding efforts—”

“ _Your brother can literally create entire buildings by waving his hands._ ”

Tobirama paused and considered the thought. “Hand waving can be exhausting,” he began stiffly, already wincing. Izuna let out an inarticulate sound of rage.

Several months of heated discussions, screamed negotiations, challenges to the death, and insults upon the honor of both clans later, Madara and Tobirama are official intended for each other in contracts formally written up and sealed in blood and chakra. “If you want to run, now’s the time,” Madara hissed at Tobirama. There’s a strange comradery in being the two people aware of a farce in order to lead generations to peace. Madara thinks it was a good thing that Tobirama came with the plan, if it had just been him he would have shouted himself hoarse and not gotten much done; with Tobirama, legal precedent got thrown with the level of viciousness most people threw insults against another’s mother.

“Don’t be silly. If I was going to run, I would do it after assassinating you and taking all your money,” Tobirama hissed back before stiffly smiling at another Elder offering his congratulations.

Madara suppressed the urge to recoil. “I don’t have that much money,” he finally whispered back after an uncomfortable pause.

“What a shame. I suppose we’re stuck then,” Tobirama replied before giving him a sly smile. Madara couldn’t help the matching smirk that he knew was growing on his face.

Another Elder stopped by to offer congratulations and ominously intoned words on duty and honor. Madara snuck at glance at his co-conspirator. This could work, he thought, remembering the way a Senju child had tackled an Uchiha child in cheerful greeting. (It had, actually, been rather reminiscent of any greeting Hashirama attempted to give back in the day.) This will work.


	2. In Which Touka Gives A Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a couple a quick notes on the wedding elements (which I am definitely bastardizing)  
> shiro-muku is the traditional white kimono that the bride wears and is supposed to symbolize purity and the bride becoming the color of the husband's family  
> muko-iri (I'm only using a very specific part) was a tradition where the groom would live with the bride's family and donate his labor for a period of time, back when they believed physical labor to be super important  
> yome-iri is the tradition of the bride marrying INTO the groom's family which is kinda more stereotypical now

In Which Touka Gives A Talk

For all that Madara thought that the contract negotiation for marriage was a goddamn pain in the ass, the planning for the wedding of the century was somehow worse. Izuna had somehow taken the role of bridezilla on both of the groom’s behalves and Tobirama was obsessively fighting with poor the Uchiha and the Senju that had been assigned to oversee the event’s security. Hashirama had taken to throwing himself at either of them and sobbing “something something, all grown up, something something” and typically had to be peeled off with gratuitous force and no mercy.

Strangely enough, Madara found himself becoming reluctant friend-allies with Mito and Touka because the two seemed to be the only remaining bastions of sanity in this world.

“If someone asks me one more time if I have opinions about the proceedings—” he began mostly desperate and partly annoyed, throwing himself down on a chair and swiping a cup of tea from Mito to her faintly raised eyebrow.

“You could always elope,” Touka offered, cackling as she leaned against her naginata.

“No!” Tobirama spat, suddenly appearing out of nowhere to glare menacingly at Touka. He seemed to have a hyperawareness of when elopement was suggested and was quick to squash the thought. “Elopement goes against section 7 subsection 32—”

“Holy shit it goes to subsection 32?” Madara interrupted, frowning. All three turned a rather reptilian stare on him, causing him to quail back and hold his hands up defensively. “I’m just saying maybe if you get that far you should just have another section,” he offered with a shrug.

Tobirama continued staring at him for a long time before turning to Mito, “I should have taken him to the cleaners,” he said dryly, a faint smile pulling the corners of his mouth.

“I did,” Mito responded back benignly, inspecting her fingernails with studied calm. “If your brother breaks any of sections in our contract, he better off throwing himself at the mercy of the gods.”

Tobirama winced briefly, ignoring Touka pounding the table with her fist as she laughed. “The gods aren’t exactly known for mercy,” he said slowly.

“At the mercy of a god of war,” Mito shot back, her lips pulling up into a thin, slightly threatening smile.

“I love you,” Touka proclaimed enthusiastically once she got her laughter under control. “I hope you stay with us forever.”

“Upon this new knowledge, so do I,” Tobirama said dryly, rolling his eyes at his cousin. He paused and seemed to consider things for a moment before turning a threatening finger on Madara, “No elopement!” he snapped before whirling away and leaving the room with a neat clack of the doors. The clack of the doors was followed by rapidfire demands in Tobirama’s voice and the scurrying of shuffling feet.

“You really are lucky he didn’t take you to the cleaners,” Touka added, finally settling herself down with an easy smirk and a cup of tea.

Waving his hand dismissively, Madara shrugged. “That’s what Izuna and the Elders are for,” he said cheerfully. At the mention of his little brother, Touka’s smirk grew dangerously. “No,” he interrupted firmly as she opened her mouth. “I haven’t had to hear his haikus on your arms because he’s too busy to come up with something that expresses sheer perfection and I refuse to listen to you be smug.”

Touka idly flexed her arms, having taken to wearing sleeveless outfits after the third time Izuna had walked into a pond from watching her lift weights. “Sheer perfection?” she asked, slow and dangerous.

Madara wrinkled his nose and suppressed the urge to shriek; the last time he shrieked he had been rapidly thrown out to face the detail-hungry masses by Mito. “Gross,” he finally whined once the urge to shout had slowly subsided. “Uzumaki,” he complained, turning on Mito.

“Touka, behave,” Mito said, a serene smile on her face. “I really think—”

A crash, a clatter then, “Should I wear a shiromuku?” Tobirama stood flushed and wild-eyed, his red eyes fixed on Mito with the sort of desperation most people had only on the battlefield. “Izuna just brought it up and I don’t think we have any shiromuku and the ceremony is too close for—”

“WHAT!” Madara shrieked, finally having convinced his tongue to form words and not just flap uselessly. “You—”

“—and what if the Uchiha Elders get offended because it isn’t a traditional shiromuku, Mito? I don’t have any passed down in the family—”

“—what the  _ fuck _ were you talking about with Izuna that  _ shiromuku _ came up—”

“—I spent seven  _ weeks _ on the language for three of the sections I’m not having the contract go to waste because of a stupid missing shiromuku—”

“—I really think everyone should calm down,” Mito said, three parts pleasant and ten parts threat. Touka was currently curled up under the table, gasping for breath with tears in her eyes. Madara had gone utterly red with smoke starting to curl from his hair and Tobirama was distinctly wild-eyed, chakra racing across his skin like stripes. “If everyone could just  _ breath _ ,” she added, the room overwhelming with stifling wave of chakra when Madara and Tobirama immediately opened their mouths again. Both of them shut their mouths with a click, the air filling with just Touka’s wheezing breaths.

There was another pause then, “Fuck off, Touka,” Tobirama finally snapped, glaring at the table Touka remained curled under. “It was a legitimate question.”

“ _ No it wasn’t _ —”

“ _ I was enjoying my tea _ ,” Mito suddenly snarled, the delicate porcelain in her hand abruptly shattering. Tobirama and Madara froze, staring from Mito’s unharmed hand to the growing tea stain on her robes. Clearing his throat uncomfortable, Tobirama reached forward, and with a delicate wave of chakra, drew the stain out of her robes. “Thank you Tobirama,” she said pleasantly.

She turned her gaze on Madara. “I don’t think you want me to cook your robes—” he began defensively although he did casually bring up a fireball incase that was what she wanted.

Fixing him with a dismissive eyebrow, Mito cleared he throat. “Will the Uchiha Elders be offended if there isn’t a traditional, family-line shiromuku,” she asked.

Madara looked at the three people who had abruptly gone very very still and very very serious and pinched the bridge of his nose, the fireball going out with a sad little sigh. “Look,” he said carefully. “You guys are operating under a misconception.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” he said ignoring the dagger-eyed glare Tobirama threw him for daring to suggest that he might be “misconcepting” something. “The Uchiha Elders are still trying to adjust to the fact that we aren’t trying to kill each other, okay?” he said slowly because clearly this point bore repeating. “The only expectation they really had was to spend the next couple decades going back to war over some insult made during the contract negotiation process. And then when the contract negotiation finished they suddenly realized this was working so they figured the marriage had to happen as soon as possible.” He dragged his hand roughly through his hair, wincing when his fingers caught on the multitude of snarls. “We’ve all lost people in this war.”

“So what they’re just trying to get you two hitched as soon as possible?” Touka demanded, rare seriousness in her eyes.

“Honestly, they were all for throwing the two of us in a room, burning our clothes and just compromising Tobirama’s virtue,” he offered plainly. “Something about Section 6, subsection 69?” he offered, a legitimately confused wrinkle between he’s brow.

“It’s subsection 9,” Tobirama hissed, cheeks going abruptly red. “ _ Subsection 9 _ .”

Madara blinked slowly, the innuendo having clearly gone straight over his head. “Right,” he said to Touka’s wheezing giggles and even Mito’s small, amused laugh. “Section whatever, subsection who cares,” he continued, “said something about consummation.” He paused before seeming to process what he had said, “ _ I mean _ —” he squeaked, pale cheeks rapidly going red.

“No take backs!” Touka shrieked, laughing wildly.

“ _ I will drown all of you in a river _ —” Tobirama hissed, cheeks matching Madara’s. “ _ I wish uncle never had you— _ ”

“Love you too, baby cousin,” Touka said once she had finally calmed herself. A sly smile lit her face, “Apparently the Uchiha Elders like you too seeing as they wanted to  _ compromise your virtue— _ ”

“Touka, stop teasing,” Mito admonished, a small smirk on her face. The two grooms-to-be turned to her, relieved. “The newlyweds are  _ shy _ .”

Madara and Tobirama stared, absolutely aghast at her betrayal as Touka clutched her stomach, laughing and wheezing in turns. “I hate you,” Tobirama said, gathering his scattered dignity around him like a rather tatter cloak before flouncing—he didn’t flounce, he retreated with grace from battles that couldn’t be won—out of the room. The door slammed heavily into the wood, causing it to groan in protest and Madara to wince in sympathy.

“Speaking of teasing,” Touka said suddenly, turning to Madara with one of her strange, dangerous smiles. “Mito, would you mind clearing the room for a little bit.”

Madara felt a moment of raw panic before he firmly reminded himself that he was the goddamn Uchiha Head and he could (probably) handle whatever Touka threw at him. “Don’t make me an accessory,” Mito said calmly, rising and gathering her robes before billowing out of the room, leaving traces of sea salt-scented air behind her.

The two watched her leave, the door clacking gently shut behind her before Touka sighed. “I wanna be here when I grow up,” she said, a small smirk on her face.

Madara screwed up his face, deeply regretting and desperately suppressing all the age jokes he could think of and carefully trying to keep his thoughts from his face. “I didn’t say anything,” he blurted when Touka turned her all-seeing gaze on him.

A small smile crossed her face before it fell back into rare seriousness. “I know what you’re doing,” she said slowly, meeting his eyes with something torn and angry and strangely vulnerable in her eyes. “I know what  _ both _ of you are doing.” Her lips thinned and she crossed her arms, leaning back in the chair with something dark in her expression. “You and Tobirama and this whole….mess.”

Madara stilled, something dangerous and predatory suddenly rising in him. “What are you talking about?” he asked, letting an easy smile fall on his face. Lying was like breathing—but easier. “Touka, you’re being silly,” he added with one of his convincingly comfortable smiles. He felt his muscles loosened, the adrenaline running through his system like a low thrumming rush, controlled and lethal.  _ Ally _ , he reminded himself firmly when his fingers twitched under the table.  _ Family _ .

With a casual roll of her shoulders, Touka managed to subtly show her empty, defenseless hands; Madara felt the knot of muscle in his shoulders carefully ease. “I’m not going to do anything about it,” she said slowly, her dark lips thin. “Tobirama seems,” she trailed off, her lips twisting down and to the side to a grimace, “content,” she said finally, something like old anger threading her voice with resentment. “And I am…” she trailed off and her eyes flashed dangerously before they stilled, “fine with that,” she gritted out.

“Really?” Madara asked dryly, finally convince his well trained—since childhood all he had was Tajima, a man who barely deserved the title father, yelling about training, about being better, about being the perfect soldier—muscle to relax at the passing of a threat. “You’re… convincing.”

Touka grimaced, a rueful twist to her lips. “Look,” she said after a long searching stare and a sigh, “Butsuma fucked up a lot of things but one of the things he fucked up best was Tobirama, okay?” she said, scrubbing both hands on her face then pulling them through her hair. “He was a terrible father and a slightly better Clan Head. Got it?” she demanded, her voice spiking with dangerous intent.

Madara remembered Tajima’s yelling and his infrequent smiles that had  _ almost  _ resembled pride. He remembered the way he demanded perfection and had failed three of his sons. He remembered comforting Izuna because no one else in the family really knew how. “Yeah,” he said slowly, letting out a slow breath and releasing the memories before they could overwhelm him. “Yeah.”

“Tobirama deserves to be happy,” Touka said, a resigned pull to her mouth. “He’s never going to choose it for himself so I just want to make sure he will be.” Her eyes burned and Madara had a passing thought that in another world Touka would have made a very good Uchiha. “If you hurt him, Uchiha Madara,” she said, her voice ringing with the weight of a sworn threat, “we will both discover what it takes to burn a Uchiha. Are we clear?”

Madara knew what he would have sacrificed for his brothers to have lived; he knew what it cost him to watch Izuna fight, his back unguarded. “Crystal,” he agreed, letting his lips tug into a genuine, lethal smile.

Touka matched it with a rather sharp-toothed grin of her own. “Good.”

-x-

“Goddammit,” Tobirama hissed, just barely avoiding dropping his scrolls. He carefully balanced the scrolls and turned back to begin walking to the administrative buildings of the compound when he froze at a strange picture. “What the absolute fuck are you doing?” he demanded, trying to ignore the way he had felt his voice squeak absurdly as well as the strange swoop in his stomach.

Madara glanced up from where he was helping tie together giant logs to be turned to over to the carvers to make the more intricate pieces that Hashirama did not yet have the control to create. “Tobirama,” he greeted respectfully, using the edge of his sleeves to wipe his forehead. “Good morning.”

Tobirama stared from where Uchiha Madara, scourge of the Senju, the Clan Head of the Uchiha Clan was standing shirtless with a bunch of Senju chopping wood and tying logs and pulling the trunk roots out of the ground with his bare hands. He offered Madara a faint wave then blindly reached out and grabbed the arm of a passing servant. “ _ Where is his shirt? _ ” he hissed, staring at the poor girl a little wild eyed.

She blinked, large brown eyes startled and a little afraid. “Tobirama-sama,” she squeaked, her head swiveling from Madara and the workers to Tobirama. “Not….there?” she finally offered, with a helpless shrug of her shoulders.

Releasing the girl, Tobirama stalked off to find his intended’s little brother, snarling obscenities under his breath. “IZUNA!” he barked from down the hallway, spying his future brother-in-law gesticulating at some hapless confused-looking man. Magically, the way in front of him cleared as people took one look at the rage on his features and scuttled away into rooms or away from the building entirely.

Breaking off his conversation with a sharp gesture, Izuna turned away and saw Tobirama marching toward him with the furious resolve he rarely witnessed outside the battlefield. “What?” he asked, trying to suppress the part of him that saw such an expression on a Senju and immediately thought  _ danger _ .

Tobirama, grabbing Izuna by the arms, towed the two of them into an empty room. “ _ What is your bother doing _ ” he hissed, leaning close, eyes wide, “ _ shirtless? _ ”

Izuna, remembering Madara’s glowering threats and meeting Tobirama’s wild-eyed stare, mentally apologized to his brother for the betrayal and immediately sacrificed him for the greater good (and his own safety). “Well, you’re doing the yome-iri and marrying into the family,” he said weakly, trying to shake off Tobirama’s grip and largely failing miserably. “So he thought it would be only polite that he did muko-iri.”

“ _ Why? _ ” Tobirama hissed, the wild look not fading from his eyes and his grip turning just on the edge of painful. “ _ What is he planning? _ ”

Izuna stared narrowly, about to get angrily defensive of his brother—particularly because he remembered the way Madara had shrugged one shoulder with a slightly uncomfortable smile, something uncomfortably close to gentleness in his eyes—when he slowly categorized the wild eyes, blown pupils, and slight tremble in Tobirama’s limbs. “Why?” he asked slyly, unable to help the wide, gleeful smile that was spreading on his face. “Are you a little bit touched?”

There was a shriek of denial and the servants let out a communal sigh as one of the rooms abruptly flooded and Tobirama stalked out, leaving Izuna cackling on the ground, in the middle of an unexplainable puddle, looking remarkably pleased for someone resembling a drowned rat.

-x-

Touka, because she was a remarkably well-adjusted young woman considering the fact that her childhood mainly consisted of murder and death, decided to start her heart-to-heart conversation with her baby cousin by breaking into his room in the middle of night and jumping on his bed. After a two minute (genuine) tussle and three additional minutes of silent attempted murder because Tobirama was in a strop, she finally pinned her baby brother with a cheerful smile.

Tobirama let out a weak, defeated wheeze, glaring at her blearily with dark red, sleep muddied eyes. “What?” he groaned, starting to lift one arm to rub his eyes then letting it flop back down with a yawn.

“I thought we should talk,” she said cheerfully, like those words were the best and most normal way to begin a conversation in the middle of the night after one had broken into another’s bedroom.

“No,” Tobirama grumbled petulantly before somehow closing his eyes and immediately falling back asleep. Touka scowled, considering whether or not she should try waking him again before eyeing the mess that they had already made. Letting out an annoyed huff, she resolved to restart this conversation under the most embarrassing circumstances possible.

The opportunity came rather earlier than she expected when Tobirama stared open mouthed at Madara who was babysitting a group of twenty children in the sun, carefully teaching a fire jutsu to the very excited and faintly singed children.

“Enjoying the view, Cousin?” Touka purred, landing lightly bedside where Tobirama was perched on the branch of a rather tall tree.

There was frozen moment of stillness and Touka watched with quite a bit of shock as Tobirama suddenly fell off the tree. He landed with a bit of thump in an easy crouch, sending a vicious glare over to her. “Tobirama?” Madara called, suddenly looking up from all the kids surrounding him, a large fireball jutsu fizzling out to loud whines of protest.

Touka heard Tobirama uncomfortably clear his throat as he raised his hand to Madara, causing him to turn back to the children. “Touka!” Tobirama hissed, leaping back into the tree. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured we could finish our earlier conversation.”

“What earlier—” Tobirama paused, frowning faintly, “wait you actually broke into my room last night?” he asked, his frown slowly becoming a scowl.

“Yes.” Touka stared at him strangely when he began to grumble to himself, “I told you we need to talk.”

“So?” Tobirama demanded, perching back onto the branch and crossing his arms. “Talk.”

“You’re marrying Madara to end the war and I don’t know whether to be furious with you or furious with alternate dimension you or with Hashirama,” Touka began slowly, ignoring the flickers of expression that disappeared from Tobirama’s expression as quickly as they appeared, “but I don’t necessarily like it.” She would probably decide to be angry with Hashirama; he typically deserved it anyway.

Touka eyed the slow ripple of Tobirama’s shoulders and the dangerous flicker of his chakra. “Are you going to stop me?” he asked slowly, a calculating expression on his face.

“No,” Touka said after a long silence and a worryingly deep look at him. “I won’t.” She watched the way he settled and a slight smile that almost crossed his face. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re my favorite cousin,” she said abruptly, shifting her weight to get a little more comfortable on the branch. “So you should know that I just want you to be happy and I don’t think you’ll have it with him.”

There was something uncharacteristically old in Tobirama’s eyes at her words. “I don’t need happiness,” he spat, suddenly vicious, “I need this war to  _ end _ .”

“And you’ve ensured that it will,” Touka said idly, carefully spinning a kunai on her fingers. She abruptly wished for the reassuring weight of her naginata but dismissed the thought. “And either everyone will come together to fight us or to ally with us,” she added, considering the lack of skirmishes that had occurred on the borders the past couple of weeks. “You’ve thought of it all,” she added with a little rueful laugh because by god she knew her cousin. “I wonder,” she said slowly, at the smug smirk pulling his lips, “if you’ve thought of yourself in all this.”

There was a frozen moment before Tobirama managed to shake away his stillness into an overly casual slouch. “I marry into the family no more Senju have to die. I think it’s a pretty simple exchange personally.”

“An exchange which demands your sacrifice,” Touka said coldly, “naturally.” She remembered the squirt throwing himself between Butsuma and stupid idealistic Hashirama, between Butsuma and sweet, kind Itama, between much too talented, much too young Kawarama and an Uchiha. She wondered when she had stopped noticing his predilection for throwing himself into messes, specifically messes that might harm his own. “I don’t like it, Tobi,” she confessed quietly, remembering the child that she had guided through his first kata and the way he had beamed at her afterwards, smug satisfaction in his face.

Tobirama almost reached out for her before he stilled, a slight grimace on his face. “You don’t have to like it, Touka,” he said slowly, the corners of his mouth pulling down, “but I still hope you will support me in it,” he said slowly.

Touka gave a long sigh, flopping back and resigning herself. She had attempted to speak to him about it; clearly he was determined to follow through on this. “Well,” she said slowly, staring up at the sky broken through by branches, “if I supported you through getting those stupid face tattoos, I surely have to support this stupid decision too.”

There was a sullen silence and as she started to sit up with check her cousin’s expression, Tobirama, with judicious use of his pointy elbows, shoved her out of the tree. She cackled the whole way down.    
  



End file.
